


Camera Shy

by JackalopingIntoTheVoid



Series: Anyone Know This John Doe? [2]
Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Amnesia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fish out of Water, Fluff, Found Family, John's canonical discomfort regarding cameras, Multi, Panic Attacks, Welcome to my AU where Hunt the Truth is canon and Halo 5 doesn't matter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-09-27 23:31:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17171543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JackalopingIntoTheVoid/pseuds/JackalopingIntoTheVoid
Summary: Riley has a great idea- in order to find people John knows, they should record him and put the vid on Chatternet to get the word out!Unfortunately, things tend to be a little more complicated than that.





	1. Meet The Crew

The vidstream was starting, but not in the usual way. The New Start Crew, or whoever would be on stream this time, weren’t all on the couch ready with the opening greeting. Instead, it was just a pale heart-shaped face and brown hair in a stylish undercut, hazel eyes darting back and forth as they double checked everything was set up. The outgoing Riley with the camera on follow mode, much closer than if there were a group.

“Hello Crewsters! Now, you might be thinking ‘ay up, something’s not quite right here’. You’re not wrong friends, and it’s not ‘cause I’ve picked up the wrong thing to take a selfie with; we’ve had an  _incident_. Early this morning– before I had even returned from last night’s passionate tryst– somebody broke into the garage!”

A dramatic gasp sounded as they reeled back from the camera in faux shock.

“Oh my goodness! What could they possibly want from our garage? Tools, spare parts? Access to our top-secret stash of pilfered alien tech!? All good questions, all wrong answers.” They dropped the theatrics, but remained energetic. “Turns out some poor bloke had been homeless out in the snow, and in desperation had wrenched the door open to get out of the cold.”

They grinned, turning slightly to start leading the free-floating camera across the room.

“So, have we had the guy arrested for breaking and entering? Dropped him off at a hospital to be treated for hypothermia?”

With a chuckle, Riley waved their hand dismissively. “‘Course not! Sampo’s gone and adopted him, bless her heart. Vera says he’s twice her size and frankly that’s bloody terrifying ‘cause she’s ripped as all get-out, but if Sampo says,” here came the bad impression, “‘We must wrap him up warm and feed him soup and love him forever’ then God knows Ali-oop’s gonna do it. She’s arse over tits for that woman.”

Riley cheerfully bounced through a door, not bothering to close it as the camera tracked them across the hallway.

“Now, I haven’t seen this bloke. Something about not overwhelming him. I think anyone who can force open a garage door with his bare hands and hypothermia is a big boy and can handle it, but it’s not my call.”

“Now, three people have met him themselves, and both Sampo and Mousy are still in the bedroom with him, so it’s our favourite hunk who’ll be providing today’s news bulletin!”

With that, they pushed through into the living room area, where Alouette sat on the usual vid couch with a cup of coffee and her COM pad, probably browsing the net. She glanced up in mixed annoyance and confusion.

“Ali, darling, give us the deets! What went down with the mysterious man in the garage?”

Raising her eyes to the heavens, Alouette put down her COM. “Not much. Mo heard a noise, called me to say someone had broken in, I went in with my gun and found a very large man. He didn’t attack us so Mo tried to talk to him and he passed out.”

The camera pulled back a little way so Riley could turn to it and adequately express how unimpressed they were by expression alone. “No sense of intrigue whatsoever. Two out of ten, lacklustre at best.”

Huffing in frustration, Alouette snapped, “I am not the noir lead! I am an ODST! We get shit done, not write sagas about it!”

They didn’t even wait for her to finish. “Come  _on_  Aloe Vera–”

_“Do not call me–!”_

“– what does he look like? What does he  _sound_  like?”

“No sound.” Alouette folded her arms, frowning. “He did not speak. Perhaps he’s spoken to Sampoorna or Mo, but not to me.”

After a moment of expectant silence, she rolled her eyes and continued, pensive. “He is very big. Very very big, taller than Sampo and more muscles than me. Skin white like chalk, white like there is something wrong with him. Very big eyes.”

“… I’m getting the feeling this bloke might be a bit on the larger side?”

The camera listed violently to the side as a cushion collided with it, narrowly missing Riley’s head.

* * *

A dark and skinny form, under 6′, came into focus. Riley was nowhere to be seen. All was quiet save for the soft sound of boiling water and a spoon ringing lightly against a mug. Only the back of this person was visible, even the head obscured by the pulled-back hair, thick natural curls giving it incredible volume.

“Ring-a-ding, it’s Changming!”

With a cry of shock, Changming whipped round before immediately laughing, releasing his nervous tension as he realised they’d gotten him again.

“Riley! Why d’you do this to me? Every time!” A slightly-less-thick accent otherwise matching Mochou’s and more than familiar to regulars of the channel. “I’m making tea here!”

“Changming here is the next-closest individual to the incident by association.” They’d adopted a news reporter voice for this part, still out of view of the camera. “Changming, what can you tell us about the stranger your sister accosted this morning?” A rolling pin appeared, thrust into the younger man’s face like a microphone.

“Ahaha, well, not much really! He’s super huge though, like all over, and so scarred up! He looks like a Brute used him as a chew toy!”

“All over?” The suggestive eyebrow-waggle was audible.

“Yeah!” He was glossing over that. “We had to strip him off see, ‘cause of the– shut up, don’t look at me like that– ‘cause of the hypothermia. He was in this tight bl– stop it!– a black bodysuit. And you have to– you have to take off– if you don’t stop laughing I’ll stop talking.”

“Okay, okay I’m sorry! I’ll stop.”

“Wet or tight clothing has to come off. Hold it together Rile! But he was so pale I could map out his whole cardiovascular system by eye, like that guy needs a specialist probably.”

“Maybe he’s a new form of human that evolved underground in the dark?”

“Please do not make me worried about mutant mole people right now.”

“We all know what your dear sister’s like, has she taken any samples?”

“Please do not make me think about my sister taking human samples.”

“Just–”

“No, okay? She… she kinda seemed really worried about him. She just told me he was sick and really cold though. Oh, and he liked my tea a lot!”

“A ringing endorsement. Thank you, Changming, for your insight on this matter.”

“En, that’s okay, I guess–”

“Now, to gather some speculation from local experts.”

Rapid movement, and a distant “Bye, then?” from the Guan brother.

* * *

Shoulder-length black hair and a mix of African and Arab features were the focus of the next scene, a stern and no-nonsense approach evident on the woman’s countenance.

“Fiona Kuhne, what sort of things should we be–”

“I think this is a mistake.”

“… Elaborate, if you would.”

“This is a complete stranger, guilty of breaking and entering, for whom we have no idea of motive or intent. No  _concrete_  motive, anyway. Answer me this, Riley– what sort of person can tear open an automated alloy door by hand?”

A pensive silence followed the loaded question. Fiona answered it herself.

“No one I’m happy keeping around my family without vetting, that’s who.”

* * *

The camera rounded a corner–

“I’m working, Riley. You bug me right now I won’t have time to edit it for you.”

“Mr. Adebayo, you wound me! I would never interrupt your work without good reason–”

“I don’t know anything ‘bout this guy, okay? Just wait until he’s halfway recovered, geez.”

“But Davis, what are we gonna give people for the vid today if everyone’s busy with this mystery man? We have a fan base, we have expectations, we have potential loss of income!”

“Look, you’ve probably already got some stuff right? Even if it ain’t much it’ll explain to folks what’s happening. Better to get your news from the source right?”

The camera stopped it’s movement, then turned a full 180 back to Riley’s face. A face with a wide grin slowly spreading across it.

“You know, Davis, you are  _absolutely_  right.”


	2. The Morning After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John gets some more sleep while the Crew try and figure out where to go from here, but the morning brings an unpleasant surprise.

Mochou had been somewhat reluctant to pull herself from the sleeping man’s side, acutely aware of how he jumped at each touch, half jerking away before moving into it. She didn’t think she’d ever seen someone so badly deprived of physical contact, and judging by Sampoorna’s heavy expression she was affected in the same way.

It was late afternoon now, fading into evening. John’s blocked sinuses had him snoring softly for some hours now, audible from the hallway. Sampoorna believed that now his body was refuelled and his symptoms alleviated, he was likely to sleep through the night and would probably feel much better by the morning. They’d left some water by the bed and relocated to the kitchen.

Usually, Sampoorna would have been busying herself with cooking dinner for the Crew. But instead she had been sat opposite Mochou, both with their hands wrapped around mugs, in weighted silence.

When the other members of their little household filtered in, Mochou gestured for them to sit at the table together. They’d have to fill everyone in on the situation.

Riley was buzzing. They’d been buzzing all day, but despite the anticipation they seemed to have read the room and were keeping quiet for now. Alouette settled herself next to Sampoorna and they kissed sweetly.

“I am sorry we have not enjoyed our anniversary.”

“Chut,” Alouette kissed her again. “We have time. We can get pizza and snuggle, yes?”

Sampo smiled sweetly, and held her wife’s hand.

“So… who is this guy?” Changming interjected after a moment had passed, asking the question on everyone’s minds.

“We don’t know,” Mochou answered, “and neither does he.”

* * *

An hour and a half later, everyone was settled on the couch with pizza and soda, watching one of Fiona’s ancient movie series’. They’d just finished Avengers 4 when Riley spoke up at last.

“So, this guy– amnesiac. We should totally get him on the show.”

“Riley…”

“No, Davis, this was your idea!”

“What? I never–”

“Ugh!” Alouette put her glass on the table. “Always about the vids! Can we leave it for today at least?”

“Look, hang on. Just bear with me alright?” Shoving their empty pizza box onto the coffee table, they adjusted their position. “He’s amnesiac, can’t remember who he is or where he’s from right? Well, if we get him in one of our vids, someone watching might recognise him or go digging for details themselves.”

Oddly enough, it was Fiona who was nodding thoughtfully. “It’d be a quick way to find if he’s convicted, too. The vid would get flagged and we’d get notified.”

Snapping their fingers, Riley pointed at Fiona excitedly. “Right! See? That’s what I’m talking about, all around good idea!” With the eminently practical young woman on their side, Riley knew it was decided.

“We will have to see how John is feeling in the morning.” Sampoorna was firm on this. Her medical license had lapsed years ago but she was responsible for John’s wellbeing all the same. “We will not make him appear on Chatternet if he is still very unwell.”

“Alright, yeah, done.”

“Nèi ge…”

All the heads in the room turned immediately. Mochou had been silent since they’d settled in to the old movies.

“What if… what if we catch the attention of someone we don’t want to see? What if he’s running away from someone who hurt him?”

“Hmm.”

Alouette turned to her wife in confusion, interest piqued. “Hmm?”

“Hmm.” Sampoorna repeated. “That is a distinct possibility. He flinches from your hands, then gazes longingly as you take them away. He is skittish and wary and his body is always tense. He was bewildered at the thought of his pain being of concern to us.”

There was a lull in the conversation as that information sank in. Then Changming perked up.

“We can take him to a doctor! He’ll need a check up anyway with the hypothermia and all, they can test his DNA and pull up his records!”

“Unless he’s from a glassed planet.” Davis replied. “Glassed planets have bad records.”

Sampoorna nodded. “If nothing else we will need to get clothes for him. There is little here that might fit him.”

“There’s nothing more to do tonight.” Alouette put her foot down on the discussion. “We finish eating, we go to bed, we get up in the morning and deal with it.”

* * *

The room was hot and dark and stifling. Harsh breathing filled the air as John held as still as he could despite the adrenaline and his pounding heart. It took him several minutes to calm down because every time he tried to soothe himself with his surroundings we was reminded that the familiarity was superficial and beyond that he had nothing. He was utterly lost.

A soft orange light glowed in the room, and a bald man with Central Asian features in simple overlapping robes formed as a hologram. The voice that spoke was slightly stilted, indicating a Dumb AI. Despite himself, John calmed a little.

“Good morning, Guest. I am Tenzin. You seem upset. Can I help?” 

He knew it was only programming, but it settled him all the same.

“No, thank you.” He couldn’t even remember what the dream was about. Just that it was… awful. That he was terrified. He had only a few days’ worth of episodic memory and he was already sick of being afraid.

“Are you sure? It is four o’ clock in the morning. How can I help you to sleep?”

It was strange. Mochou and her friend being kind felt odd, but from Tenzin it didn’t feel uncomfortable at all. Well, he supposed it was the AI’s job, wasn’t it? Yes, that made sense.

Still, 0400 hours (that took him a second) felt like the right time to be up. Frowning, he asked, “How long have I been sleeping?”

“Eleven hours and forty two minutes.” Chimed the response.

John was honestly shocked. “I don’t think I’ll be getting anymore sleep today.”

“Are you sure? You have been through an ordeal. Your body needs rest to recover.”

“Persistent, aren’t you?” He mumbled, stifling a yawn.

“You are still unwell. Your health is important. Your body needs rest to recover.”

He wanted to continue protesting, but frustratingly he  _did_  still feel tired. After almost  _twelve hours_  of sleep!

“Tenzin.”

“How can I help you?”

“… I don’t know. How can you help?”

“I can provide soothing music, or a relaxing pastime, or an ASMR experience if you are susceptible to them, to calm your mind.”

John decided to ask what ASMR was another time. He shifted to try and get comfortable like he had been yesterday, but all it did was make him acutely aware of the amount of sweat there was sticking the fabric to his skin. Even if he had no intention of going back to sleep, he could definitely do with a calm mind. “What do you have of the first two?”

* * *

Yawning, Mochou stumbled out of her room, still in her pyjamas with her hair loose and glasses askew. Wobbling towards the kitchen in search of coffee, she stalled in the hallway outside Alouette and Sampoorna’s room. Was that… was that Renaissance-era Classical music? Not unpopular even in this day and age, but she didn’t know those two liked it. Or perhaps only one of them liked it and the other was compromising.

Shrugging it off, she continued heading for coffee. As the water heated up, Tenzin appeared beside her.

“Good morning, Mochou. It is eight o’ clock in the morning. I hope you slept well.”

Yawning, she answered, “Morning Tenzin. How we doing today? Less snow?”

A synapse fired in her brain. Then another. And another.

Snow. Yesterday.  _John_.

“Though still just as cloudy and cold, there will indeed be less snow today.”

“John!” She blurted, “Our guest! Is he awake? Is he okay?”

“The Guest: John awoke in distress at four o’ clock this morning. Though he has not gone back to sleep, he has remained resting in bed. He has been provided with soothing music and a real-time star chart to peruse. Currently playing is Pachelbel’s Canon in D Major.”

She hadn’t quite realised that must have been John’s choice of music she heard. One tiny piece of the puzzle slid into place. Seemingly insignificant, but an aspect of John life and personality that might have otherwise been lost in whatever trauma (physical or otherwise) caused his memory loss.

Mochou felt awful that he’d woken so early upset, but she supposed it was to be expected in his situation. Still, she found she wanted to make him a proper Chinese breakfast, but she was nowhere near awake enough for cooking and Changming was probably already glued to his tech as comments and messages poured in over Riley’s interim vid.

Sampoorna and Alouette would be sleeping in after yesterday, and she was pretty sure Fiona had never cooked anything with instructions more complex than ‘make hot and wait’. Davis tended not to eat much this time of the morning, having ‘elevenses’ instead, and gods knew Riley had nothing resembling a routine.

Ducking her head into the fridge, Mochou almost immediately saw a package of shop-bought ‘breakfast sandwiches’. Sausage, egg and cheese in flatbread. She could pop a couple of those in to heat up in the time it would take to make John a cup of tea. Then she frowned, remembering how much he’d eaten the day before. There was some instant oatmeal in there too– apricot, almond and vanilla flavour, apparently. Weighing up the options, she decided to cook all six sandwiches for the two of them to share and he could have the oatmeal to himself.

* * *

As he’d expected, John never got back to sleep. He felt restless, though the lingering effects of illness meant focusing consciously on anything was an effort. But he allowed himself to get lost in the star chart holographically projected above the bed, constellations and the odd shooting star drawing his eye. The light was soft enough, and the image clear enough, that he may as well have been lying outside looking up at the sky.

He found himself engaging with the music in a way he hadn’t expected to. he’d intended to try it with the expectation that he’d find it distracting and regret his decision, but he was really enjoying it. He didn’t know much about music, really, but the rich sounds of orchestras affected him on an inexplicable level.

He barely noticed the hours passing, having sunk into the experience so deeply that he jumped at the knock on the door.

He sat up immediately, and thankfully Tenzin automatically lowered the music and dimmed the star chart, though John would have preferred if they turned off altogether.

Mochou came in backwards, holding a tray with a small pile of sandwich-like items and a steaming pot with a spoon, as well as a mug.

“Good morning, John! How are you feeling today?” She set up the tray for him, like Sampoorna did yesterday. Her hair was untied and her clothing… she looked even softer than before. It was nice. She looked nice.

“I’m fine.”

“That’s good! I’m glad.” She handed him the mug, and once he had it she settled in beside him on the bed, pressing against his side. The stress relief was instantaneous and he was sorely tempted to lie back down and curl around her.

He sipped his tea instead.

“These have sausage and egg and cheese in.” Mochou pointed at the sandwiches, and John was astonished by the thought of real meat. Then she leaned down to peer at the pot. “This is, en, oatmeal porridge stuff. En, ‘with apricot pieces, almond pieces and vanilla extract’.”

Real apricot pieces? He could hardly believe it.

“I’m just gonna have a couple sandwiches, the other stuff is all yours! Eat whatever you like, okay John?”

They were sharing the meal. A warmth bloomed in his chest at the thought. Were they that close already? He couldn’t say he wasn’t happy about it; it felt good to have someone to be close with.

Before Mochou could do anything else, John selected the two sandwiches that looked the biggest and set them at the corner of the tray closest to her. Just because she was smaller than him didn’t mean she should slack on her nutritional intake, after all.

He started in on a sandwich himself, revelling in the processed produce.  _So_  much better than protein bars.

There was no movement from Mochou. He turned to her and found her staring at the sandwiches he’d set aside for her. Frowning briefly, he moved to nudge her with his shoulder in a comforting gesture, but she was too small. After a moment of thought, he leaned over and very gently bumped her head with his own.

She startled and blinked, turning to stare at him instead. He nodded towards the food. A second passed and then Mochou laughed softly before starting to eat. Satisfied, John picked up the pot and acquainted himself with the ‘oatmeal porridge stuff’. It was really good.

* * *

Mochou told him, after breakfast, that she and the others were going to find some clothes for him. She said they would change the bedding as well, and he was pointed to the en suite bathroom (an actual, fully-stocked, private en suite bathroom). He’d been pleasantly surprised when the fragile-looking latrine had held his weight without issue.

But that paled in comparison to taking a shower. It felt  _so_  good, hot water soothing aching muscles, washing away the night’s fearful sweat. The soaps and shampoos in here were wonderful, he’d read the labels and been reassured that his skin wouldn’t be left dry and irritated later, and they all smelled pleasantly fruity rather than like the chemical soup they were made of. Such minor inconveniences were barely worth thinking about, really, but sometimes the little things were the best you got.

He’d been told to take his time, so (feeling a little cheeky despite the permission) he was taking  _five minutes_  on this shower, a whole 250% more time than strictly necessary. He kept expecting someone to bang on the door and tell him to get moving, and every time he reminded himself it wouldn’t happen he was tempted to giggle like a naughty child. It was ridiculous but he was seizing the opportunity– nothing could take away from this moment no matter how silly he felt.

He still had another thirty seconds of his self-allotted five minutes though he’d finished his ablutions, so with another misplaced thrill he gave himself one last, indulgent rub-down under the heady spray.

Even drying off felt like he was spoiling himself. Did all civilians have such sumptuously soft towels?

He left the en suite as Mochou entered the bedroom from the hall with her arms full of fabric, and he was taken aback by her response.

“I’m sorry!” Mochou yelled, hurriedly dumping the fabric on the bed, pointedly looking anywhere but at him. “I should have knocked! I’m sorry!”

She pulled two items from the bundle and veritably flung them in his direction.

“I-I didn’t think you’d be done so fast! Nèi ge, nèi ge, nèi ge– those are clothes for you! Sorry if they’re kind of small, you’re a really big guy!”

Without waiting for an answer, she ran back out of the room.

Unnerved, John put on the clothes. They were… weird. And, yes, too small. The sweats had just enough give in them that nothing was constricted too painfully, but the t-shirt was tight enough to restrict his movement if he didn’t want to tear the thing off by accident. The sleeves were already riding up.

He approached the bed and the pile of what he assumed to be bedding. It couldn’t be too far off from making a bunk, right?

There was a knock at the door before he could start. He found himself stuck on how to respond. Did he tell them to come in? Open the door for them?

“Hiya! You dressed love?” An unfamiliar voice. English accent. Whoever this was, they sounded… boisterous. He swallowed thickly and braced himself.

“Yes.”

The door opened and the stranger burst in– and John froze in place as his veins turned to ice.

“Here he is, the man of the hour! Say hi to the folks at home, John!”

His own horror-struck face stared back at him from the lens of the camera.


	3. Shake the Foundations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Actions have consequences.
> 
> Trigger Warning: POV depiction of a panic attack

Logically, all John needed to do was tell this person to turn off the camera, perhaps remove it from their possession at a push. Unfortunately, logic didn’t get a chance to assert itself– John’s limbic system bypassed conscious thought and flung him straight into fight or flight.

Even with his vitals overclocking, however, John hesitated to harm a civilian. It took less than a second to ensconce himself in the en suite once more, but as the door locked behind him the room suddenly seemed much too small. Claustrophobia clawed at his chest, and what might have once manifested as a mild anxiety was pushed to near-panic by the nature of his circumstances– he could well have died without the help of the people in this building, but it too harboured threats. There was no safe place. He felt entirely out of control.

Blood pulsed in his head so loudly that he couldn’t hear the newly-familiar voices outside the door trying to soothe him. His breath came short and sharp, it felt like he couldn’t get enough air, but he felt more naked in the new clothing than he had done without it and the sudden intense feeling of vulnerability aborted his motion to open the small window

_(too small to get through, too small to get out, he couldn’t get out)_

for air flow. He could feel his throat closing up. He couldn’t swallow. His hands grasped instinctively for something– anything– to wield, to defend himself with, just to hold on to, and for the first time John realised there was more missing than just his memory.

Frantic yet helpless,

_(floating, drifting, spinning into space, no anchor, no thrust, just lost, alone)_

he curled his shaking form into the most secure corner he could identify and did his best to breathe.

* * *

“No warning, no ‘Hi, I’m Riley, nice to meet you,’ no  _permission!_ ”

Riley was getting the book thrown at them.

“How would you like it if you slept over somewhere and a stranger busted in with a camera, huh!?”

Not that they didn’t deserve it.

“But you didn’t think about that, did you? You were just so excited to get him on Chatternet you completely disregarded his privacy  _and his consent_.”

They knew a panic attack when they saw one. They knew what they’d done.

“Wǒ wúyǔle!”

The fact that it was Changming who was ripping them a new one just made it worse.

With that final outburst, Fiona entered with her usual uncanny timing and her normally stern expression creased into a frown.

“What the fuck, Riley?”

“I know…” They answered softly, “I know, alright? I fucked up, badly, and he might not ever feel safe here again.”

“Yuán lái shì zhèyàng!”

“Changming.” Fiona’s tone commanded silence. “Make John some tea, please. Anything remotely familiar may help.”

“Right, yes! Okay! I can make tea! I can do that!” Off he went, muttering to himself all the way.

A moment passed in silence, broken by Fiona’s sigh as she reached up to massage her temple and muttered, “This is that strip club all over again.”

Riley winced at the reminder. But they didn’t apologise– there was no point. The person they needed to apologise to had barricaded himself in the bathroom to hyperventilate.

God, they hoped he’d be okay.

* * *

By the time a voice filtered through to him, John was finding it easier to breathe. This wasn’t the worst thing he’d been through. He couldn’t remember the worst thing, but he knew this was far from it. That should have been alarming, but right now it was a good thing.

“You are in distress, John. I can provide assistance.”

Tenzin. He searched for the orange avatar, but there was nowhere in the room to project a hologram. He supposed it defeated the purpose of a private latrine if someone else could pop in whenever they liked.

“I cannot see you, John. Can you provide verbal confirmation?”

Once it became clear that no one would try to break down the door, John had been regulating his breathing as best he could. In through the nose, hold for fifteen seconds, out through pursed lips, slow and controlled. This meant he could answer Tenzin with a clear (if shaky) “Yes.”

“That’s good. Thank you. You are doing well.”

He was doing well. He’d managed to control his breathing enough to respond as requested. That was good, he had a handle on himself. A small one, but still. When all was madness, simplicity was a balm.

“Press your tongue to the ridge behind your top front teeth.”

The alveolar ridge, also known as the alveolar margin. Between the upper teeth and the hard palate. That was something he knew, and that was comforting. He did as he was told.

“Exhale completely and forcefully through your mouth.”

The harsh  _whoosh_  of his breath sounded too loud, too rushed. He trusted Tenzin.

“Close your mouth and inhale through your nose as I count to four.”

John breathed in as Tenzin counted. And so it continued– in through the nose for four, hold for seven, out through the mouth for eight, all while pressing his tongue to his alveolar ridge.

He realised this was intended to maximise oxygen in the blood while dispersing carbon dioxide. It was working. He felt progressively calmer, and it felt good to have something constructive to do.

Tenzin counted him through four cycles altogether, though John kept it up for another three. He tucked the instructions away in his mind for future use.

Uncurling from the corner, John resolutely moved to the window and opened it. The air was frigid against his face and breathing it was borderline painful, but it helped.

“I would like to apologise on Riley’s behalf. They did not mean you harm.”

John decided he’d see for himself, but responded for Tenzin’s sake. “Okay.”

“Neither Riley nor their camera are present or active in the next room.”

“Okay.”

“Mochou would like you to open the door. Do you feel comfortable doing that, John?”

_Do you feel comfortable_. A baffling question. Still, he verbally responded in the affirmative and followed through.

* * *

When the door opened (after Tenzin’s reassurances that John had calmed down) Mochou wasn’t sure what she expected. But he seemed… unruffled. Like the whole incident hadn’t happened. But– no, it just seemed that way. His eyes cased the room rather than staying on her, his hands curled into fists at his sides.

“John?”

Now he was looking at her. She swallowed.

“John, I’m so sorry about…”  _About Riley_ , she wanted to say,  _they didn’t mean to hurt you_. But John had just endured a panic attack. It wasn’t fair make this about the person that caused it, no matter how innocent Mochou knew their intentions to be.

“Are you… how are you?”

“I’m fine.” Fine? He was absolutely  _not_  ‘fine’. “I’m sorry for my behaviour.”

What?

“What? John, no, that wasn’t your fault!” She reached out to him, to make contact, but caught herself and folded her arms to resist the temptation. “That was Riley, acting without thinking. You couldn’t help it.”

His gaze followed her hands, and he frowned more deeply. “I should have had more control.”

Shaking her head helplessly, Mochou struggled for a response. John didn’t give her the chance.

“Why did Riley try to record me?” This was new. Unnerving. He was suddenly all business, and it reminded her of Fiona on a mission. (Not a literal mission of course; as a chemist she’d luckily never seen combat after– she didn’t meet Fiona until the end of the war.)

“Nèi ge, we stream vids on Chatternet. For fun and technically as a job too? Anyway, en, Riley thought… if we put you in one of our vids, someone who knows you– family or friends or someone– might recognise you and get in contact.”

It was immediately clear that John didn’t like that. His jaw tightened and the corners of his eyes pinched as if he was fighting the urge to grimace. She opened her mouth to reassure him that he didn’t have to but once again, he responded before she could.

He spoke slowly, with hints of reluctance. “If that would be the most efficient method…”

Taken aback, Mochou cast her thoughts back to last night’s conversation with the others. “En, we could take you to the hospital for DNA–”

A short, sharp shake of his head. Immediate refusal. Oh, boy…

“John, you need to go to the hospital anyway. You need a professional to look you over.”

His full lips noticeably thinned, pressed together tightly. After a moment, he conceded with a single nod.

Mochou smiled warmly. “We won’t force you to do anything, okay?”

He stared blankly in silence.

Biting her lip, she looked down, suddenly unable to meet his eyes and not knowing what to say to help him understand. But the motion put her gaze to rest on his hands– loosely curled rather than fisted.

Looking back up to John, she moved slowly so he had plenty of time to choose not to accept it, reaching out to gently take his hand in hers. “I will take care of you. You’re my friend, John.”

The effect was immediate. His expression softened minutely, but the difference was incredible. There was a warmth in his eyes, always, and he carefully squeezed her hand in return.

He didn’t say a word, and she understood.


	4. Forging Ahead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riley attempts to apologise and in spite of everything, John keeps going.

Mochou was still holding John’s hand. He was grateful for this, not only because of his bizarre, insistent cravings for touch, but because it kept him grounded. Part of him was worried there’d be more cameras on the other side of the door, which was blatantly ridiculous but much easier to push aside with the warm reassurance of a friend next to him, and she was unfortunately too short for him to see in his peripheral vision.

The tiny hand squeezed his, the grip seeming both feeble and intense all at once (he could crush every bone in her hand without effort, yet the sensation of its mere presence was arresting) and he craned his neck down to peer at the concerned eyes set in her round face.

“You okay?”

John nodded.

“Riley really didn’t mean to scare you, John. I promise, now they know you have nothing to fear.”

She looked so earnest and John wanted to believe her, but he found it difficult to reconcile  _now they know_  with  _you have nothing to fear_. But then, he supposed that was what Mochou was trying to tell him; Riley wasn’t a threat.

He held her gaze and carefully squeezed her hand back. He wanted to tell Mochou that he trusted her, that he appreciated everything she was doing for him. He wanted to say that he didn’t know what he’d have done without her kindness, without her making him feel less helplessly lost. He wanted to thank her for being someone familiar and reliable in this world of unknowns.

But he didn’t have the words. So he held her hand and stared, trying to impart some of his thoughts without words and promised silently that he would forgive Riley.

Mochou shifted in place, looking slightly nonplussed, and John realised he’d just made her uncomfortable with the excessive eye-contact. He looked back at the door, feeling guilty and inadequate.

She didn’t let go of his hand. Maybe that was enough.

* * *

The soft voices in the room fell silent as the door opened, and holy shit this guy really was huge. Riley had barely gotten a glimpse before he’d dived into the bathroom, but standing in the doorway he really filled the space.

God, he really did look uncanny. His skin was so pale it was almost translucent and even the oldest, most faded scars stood out drastically. And there were a hell of a lot of them on him. He looked like the poster boy for radical insurrectionist anti-UNSC propaganda,  _what will your child grow up to be?_

But those  **eyes**. Alert, intelligent, moving around the room even as his body remained statuesque (in more ways than one–  _oh my God, Riley, now is not the fucking time_ ) and eventually coming to rest on… them.

They felt sick with guilt. This man might not have his memory, but an extensive history of pain was written across his skin and they might be impulsive and flighty but they never wanted to hurt anyone.

Mochou was talking and gesturing, probably introducing people, but his eyes (his gaze was so unnerving…) kept flicking back to Riley and they couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing in their ears.

Slowly, they stood up. Everyone turned to them. Mouth dry (there was something  _wrong_  about his eyes, they couldn’t figure out what) they opened their mouth to speak, though there were no words that came to mind. They couldn’t even croak out a ‘sorry’. They were dimly aware that they’d started shaking.

John’s heavy brow pulled down further into a deep frown, and Riley thought they might honestly faint before that rumbling baritone broke through their awareness.

“Sorry.”

Now everyone was staring at John, and he seemed a little like a deer in headlights at this development, but Riley finally found the will to speak. “I– what?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, sounding no less grave. “For frightening you.”

“Wait.” They flung their hands in the air while the rest of the Crew sat in stupefied silence. “Wait, wait, no. Hold on. What. That’s what I was going to say. Why are you saying that?”

“I…” He hesitated, glancing around the room again as if looking for an out. He straightened his posture even further and focused on Riley again. “I’m frightening you. By being here.”

“John, no!” That was Mochou, grabbing his hand with both of hers now. She sounded absolutely heartbroken. “You have nothing to apologise for!”

“ _I’m_  supposed to be apologising!” Riley said, a little too loudly, a little too desperately. “I– shit, sorry, yelling– I am so,  _so_  sorry about the shit with the camera. Honestly, I swear I’ll do whatever to make it up to you, if I can. Promise!”

After a moment of tense, uncomfortable silence, Riley tried again. “Name something. Anything. I’ll do it for you, right now. Or whenever you want me to do it.”

“Hush now,” Sampoorna interjected, gentle yet firm, “this is becoming overexcitable.”

“That doesn’t sound right, aimé.” Alouette responded reflexively, thrown off by the turn this had taken.

“It isn’t.” Davis whispered, equally off-kilter.

John moved, taking a few slow, graceful steps into the room, somehow no less mesmerising with Mochou determinedly trailing from his arm. Silence fell once again.

“Please tell me beforehand when I’m going to be on camera.”

… What?

Riley shook their head fiercely. “I won’t film you at all. I shouldn’t have in the first place. I’ve deleted the footage and anytime we’re using the camera it won’t be near you, I swear.”

“If I don’t have any useful data on file at the hospital then putting my face on Chatternet might be the best option.” His voice was calm and resolute, but his expression was not a happy one. Though the tilt of his head made him seem confused more than displeased.

“The hospital, yes…” Sampoorna disentangled herself from her wife’s embrace and walked over to John, her mind clearly fixed on a practical issue she felt the need to address. “When would you feel most at ease in journeying with us to the hospital?”

John frowned again. “Is there a reason to delay the trip?”

“Hold on, hold on just a second. Don’t derail this just yet, okay? Um.” Riley pressed their fist against their forehead for a moment, trying to get their thoughts in order as they blew out a long breath.

“John,” they started, “I’m sorry that my thoughtless behaviour made you feel unsafe. I understand if you want me to stay away from you. I’ll even stay out of the building if that would help…” They trailed off at the honest confusion on the man’s face.

“It was an accident.” Which, yes, that was sort of true but–

“Are you really… okay with this?”

“I’m fine.” Then, as an afterthought, “Thank you for asking.”

More silence. This had been an awkward mess from the start and now  _nobody_ knew what to say. The atmosphere grew more and more uncomfortable as a minute ticked past, then two, before finally (mercifully) John spoke again.

“How will we be getting to the hospital?”

* * *

The trip to the hospital was… really, quite uneventful. John sat rigid and silent where he was squeezed into the car on the way there; he sat rigid and silent in the waiting room, tracking the movements of everyone present; he sat rigid and silent through his examinations and DNA test, unless the doctor asked a question to which he succinctly and politely responded; he sat rigid and silent where he was squeezed into the car on the way back.

Pretty much all of the examinations were non-invasive scans save for the saliva swab John could do himself, and he seemed slightly less rigid the more the doctor explained what she was going to do before doing it.

Ultimately, they came away with four things of note: John’s DNA didn’t come up with any viable records, there wasn’t any physical damage to his brain, he was mostly recovered from his hypothermia and his cold but should still take it easy for a few more days, and the doctor seeing him had met him before.

She told him that although he didn’t remember her, she recognised his voice. He’d saved her at the Battle of Sargasso, made it so she could come home to her son. He’d been blindsided but nodded all the same, at once astonished and… oddly comforted to find that the first tenuous link to his past was a life saved, though unfortunately they’d had no other meetings and no real conversation.

(She didn’t say anything more when it became clear just how little he remembered, but kept the contents of his new medical file discreet. It was the least she could do.)

Beyond that, John had only some vitamin supplements and a follow-up appointment. He’d have some time to settle and figure things out for a few weeks before they started in on trying to identify the cause of his amnesia and coming up with possible treatments.

In the meantime, he’d have to figure out what to do with himself.

* * *

Both Mochou and Sampoorna had been unable to attend their employment today and yesterday due to the appearance of an unknown in their living space, and were currently confirming the details with their respective superiors. John didn’t know where he was supposed to put his supplements since he knew he wouldn’t be staying in those quarters for long (he had no empirical evidence, he just… felt like that was true) but he decided to head back there for now. It would be a space to himself for a few minutes, to perch on the bed and think about everything. Including the doctor who’s life he apparently saved. Was that what he did during the war, or after? Did he save people? It didn’t feel  _incorrect_  in the strange and jarring way so many things had since he… since he forgot, he supposed; and he found he sort of liked that thought.

Even if he hadn’t though, even if it was only one person, that was enough. That was one entire  _life_ , decades of experience and thought and emotion captured in her mind as ten thousand shining moments, one world of unique perspectives and ideas, a whole universe of possibilities reaching into the future, a  ** _person_** that still lived because of him. That meant something. That meant a  _lot_.

Tenzin’s warm light filled the room, and John found himself smiling at the sight of the AI.

“Riley is in the kitchen and has a message for you.”

Confused John tilted his head and waited for it.

_“John, I’m sorry. Things got super awkward and weird when I tried to say that this morning, but I’m sorry. And, uh, I guess having the room full of people you didn’t know maybe didn’t help? So, uh, I’m making hot chocolate if you want some and I’m in the kitchen if you wanna, I dunno, give me another shot at apologising? I feel like apologies work better with chocolate. But I get if you wanna ditch again, I really do I’m not– I’m not trying to pressure you, I swear, I just… uh. Well, yeah, not much more to say here. It’s up to you and no one’s gonna hold it against you if you’re cross.”_

Frowning in thought, John set the supplements on the bedside table. He didn’t know what all the fuss was for, honestly. He appreciated the sentiment, but he’d already assured the group that there would be no interpersonal issues. As long as there was no purposeful antagonism from Riley, he wasn’t going to cause any. Besides, he hadn’t insisted on going to the hospital ASAP to try and get away from anyone, he was just seeking to complete the objective. It did no one any good to stall things.

Still… it would be best to take the opportunity to try and clear the air, hopefully without sticking his foot in his mouth. The sooner he and Riley were on the same page the better, especially since it had become clear that he  _would_  need to be on camera to try and track down friends or relatives. That thought didn’t help his unease with facing Riley alone, but he tried to swallow the lump in his throat and ignore the knot in his stomach for the sake of group cohesion (and hopefully putting Mochou at ease).

And he had to admit, if only to himself, the thought of such a luxury as chocolate was  _really_  tempting, even after this morning’s indulgent breakfast.

Biting the inside of his cheek, John said, “ETA two minutes.”


	5. One Small Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John meets Riley for hot chocolate, then steps out to face the world.

Exactly two minutes later, John entered the kitchen. He’d never been in this particular room before and he quickly scoped the place out, noting two doors at either end of the room and one set of large windows on his right from entering. A large table in the centre, various countertops along the sides of the room, usually beneath cupboards and next to appliances, some familiar but most not.

Riley was pouring hot milk into two mugs, their back to him, and he took the moment to study them. Their civilian lifestyle was clear on their body, as it was with Mochou and Sampoorna, but they seemed fit and healthy. They looked to be nothing but straight edges above the waist with curved thickness to their hips and thighs. Average height. They picked up the mugs and turned around, something about them seeming animated even in the face of a daunting conversation.

They stopped dead with a sharp squeak at the sight of him, before huffing out an embarrassed breath and setting the mugs down on the centre table.

“God, you’re quiet!” They smiled brightly up at him, but there was a nervousness in their eyes. John glanced at the chairs– sitting down might make Riley feel more at ease with him, but would the furniture hold his weight? They seemed quite sturdy, and he’d had good luck so far. He decided to risk it.

Easing himself into one, it creaked ominously in protest, but held without issue. John let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

It worked. Riley’s smile reached their eyes and they sat diagonally from him, closer than he’d thought they would. That was a good sign. They slid one of the mugs over to him without fear and didn’t flinch away when his fingers brushed theirs as he took it.

Their smile fell slightly after a moment and they glanced down, then looked back up to meet John’s eyes again.

“I know we already did the whole thing, but… I’m sorry, John, for what I did to you. I know there’s nothing I can say to magically fix it, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure it never happens again.”

John tilted his head quizzically. “I was startled, not shot. It’s in the past.”

Riley frowned. “You really mean that, don’t you? Like a panic attack’s just… nothing.”

“It happened. It’s over. No one was hurt.” He affirmed.

“ _You_  were hurt.” They responded, emphatic. “You’re going through enough without getting triggered as well.”

Confusion mounting, John countered, “I’m not hurt. I lost control for a moment but I didn’t injure myself.”

“That- that’s not– ” Riley stopped themself, a hand pressing itself to their mouth as they squinted at him in… frustration? Discomfort? The expression was hard to read. “I don’t mean physical injury. But you– you really do seem like you’re okay. Are you okay? Really?”

Feeling out of his depth, John shifted his weight in his seat, aborting that motion with a slight wince as the chair creaked again. “I’m fine. Really.”  _As long as your furniture doesn’t fall apart underneath me._

He watched with slight trepidation as Riley mulled that over, only relaxing when they did. Though he had to admit, baffling as it was, it was very clear that Riley did care about John’s wellbeing, just as Mochou and Sampoorna did. It was… nice. Good, even. In fact, he liked it quite a bit. Enough that a small warmth had nestled behind his breastbone and threatened to make him smile.

It was very odd, and he found he liked that too.

“Alright, I’ll take your word for it. And I’ll keep my promise, I’ll always ask your permission before cameras happen!” They smiled again, before looking at John’s chocolate, reminding him of its presence.

Taking the mug in hand John lifted it to his face, taking a moment to just inhale the rich, velvet scent.

“Do you like marshmallows or cinnamon or anything? And I made it with milk, is that okay? Bugger, should’ve asked ahead of time.” Riley laughed nervously, a tad more boisterously than Mochou had. “I’m not great at this, am I?”

Blinking from his brief, heady stupor, John tried to wrap his head around what Riley was saying. “Milk is fine.” He answered eventually, not sure what to do with the rest of their words.

“Okay! Right, cool, that’s good.” After a brief silence, Riley picked up their own mug and took a gulp, pointedly not making eye contact.

John sipped his more reservedly, savouring the sweetness, that unique flavour that could only be described as  _chocolate_. It was smooth, too, not gritty or dilute, but not so thick as to clog his throat. (The only thing John had to go by was his expectations, but he felt certain this was the best he’d ever had.) He indulged in a deeper draught that damn near sent him straight to nirvana before he heard Riley’s voice again.

“So… I’m guessing they didn’t find anything to help through the hospital tests?”

He shook his head.

Riley nodded thoughtfully in response, chewing the inside of their cheek. “Guess we’re trying Chatternet then?”

He nodded.

It was like flipping a switch. Suddenly all of the anxiety and awkwardness of the past day evaporated and Riley launched into brainstorming. A quick rundown of their usual vid routine, pros and cons of making a separate vid dedicated to John or adding him to a standard one, whether or not they should open or close with John’s appearance or stick it in the middle like an ad. They barely paused for nearly twenty minutes. John drank his hot chocolate and listened intently. Riley clearly knew what they were doing.

* * *

Once again, it was a much smaller group than usual for the New Start Crew’s vid today. Riley sat on the couch at stage right, smiling brightly (but, visible to the eagle-eyed, unusually tense). Mochou sat at stage left, smiling more gently but noticeably distracted from the camera.

Sat in between them, dead centre, was an unfamiliar behemoth. Many of the viewers likely drew the connection between this terrifying stranger and The Man Found In The Garage from the previous vid, but many more would be either oblivious or too dumbstruck to think. He was a pretty striking visual.

He also looked ready to bolt, sat ramrod-straight and wide-eyed. Mochou had her arm wrapped around one of his own, though he could probably pull it right off her body, and kept rubbing soothing circles on his bicep.

“Good evening, Crewsters.” Riley began, more subdued than usual.

Fortunately, Mochou’s adorably chipper, “Hello!” was per the norm.

The stranger said nothing at all.

“We’ve got a bit of catching up to do,” Riley continued, “so we’re gonna try and finish up  _Chromachase_  today, though we’ll be sad to see it go, and then we’re gonna drag this into the night by starting on the much-requested  _Honour Emergency,_  which I for one am stoked about. We sure took our time getting to that one! It’s probably like 99% off to download by now.”

Mochou giggled at the joke, but other than that the eerie quietude persisted.

“But first, we’ve got a bit of an announcement– and a request for assistance.” Turning slightly toward the stranger, they gently placed a hand on his arm. “This is John No-Last-Name-Given. Not because he won’t let us have it, but because he doesn’t  _know_  it.”

Finally, Mochou spoke up. “John has retrograde amnesia and cannot consciously remember anything about himself. DNA testing at the hospital brought up nothing, so we’re asking you instead.” Her arm tightened around John’s, and he didn’t react. (If he weren’t visibly breathing he wouldn’t look alive at all.)

“Please, if anyone who is watching knows John’s face? If you are his friend, his family, work colleague, anything; if you know him, please contact us. Anyone– anything– that can help John find his identity again is invaluable. Thank you.”

A look was shared between Mochou and Riley, then the former gave two firm pats to John’s arm. In the next instant, almost too fast to see, John had removed himself from Mochou’s grip and left the camera’s view entirely.

Briefly startled, Mochou quickly stood to follow, her voice fading as she apparently left the room.  _“That was really good John, you were really brave…”_

“Right!” Riley clapped their hands, not quite back to their usual enthusiasm but smiling much more genuinely. “If you’ll bear with me for a moment, I’ll get  _Chromachase_  loaded up from our last save as the rest of us get in here, and so help me God I will get past that fucking vortex if it’s the last thing I do!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, John's made the leap- he's on Chatternet now, and all he can do is bide his time and hope that someone comes forward. What comes next... is for John to figure out. I hope you've enjoyed Camera Shy, and I hope you'll enjoy the next part in the series. There's still much more to come!


End file.
